Someday
by MelanieeeR
Summary: Post 4x11 Oneshot. MerDer. Procrastination is not Derek Shephered's friend, especially when it leaves him with an unwritten reference for his ex-girlfriend.


**Someday**

Procrastination was a bitch. It really was. In your head, it disguised itself with a reasonable voice that calmly instructed you that procrastination was the way to go when faced with something unpleasant.

Unpleasant.

That really wasn't the right word for it.

At first the voice in his mind had argued that it was a conflict of interest. Sure, she had solved a case that had him and the rest of the neurological staff at Seattle Grace drawing blanks, on her first day as a doctor. When she had first offered her solution of Katie Bryce's mysterious seizures, he had been happy to allow the elevator door to close for an inch of a second. Mainly because as much as she was clearly uncomfortable with being around him, he was also uncomfortable around her. Only slightly though. The uncomfortable factor and also his selfish pride at being outdone by an intern had allowed that elevator door to shut, but the look on her face was the thing that made him open the elevator doors, and walk out. Somehow writing down on an evaluation/reference report that she didn't take his shit appeared a little too inappropriate. It was a conflict of interest because of the one night stand that had occurred between him and his bright intern, that and the small twinge of affection that he felt towards her.

When she had accepted his offer to buy her breakfast, the conflict of interest excuse grew and morphed into unprofessional. He was dating his intern. It was something that was highly disapproved within the hospital walls (and even outside) but it wasn't against the rules. Still, even after she preformed above and beyond her expectations as an intern, the reference that he had to write was still pushed aside. He was too emotionally invested in her, the voice whispered and he was all too glad to agree with it.

Unprofessional seemed to lace his relationship with Meredith Grey. On her side of the playing field, she was anything but unprofessional; with his wife, the gossip and him. But on his side, everything was totally, one hundred percent unprofessional. He felt guilty every time he glanced at her in the hallway and longing seemed to control his actions whenever he stood, and worked, alongside her. He had just broken up with her to be with his wife. If he wrote something now, it wouldn't only be unprofessional, but also unfair to her. What if she didn't want to be assigned to Neurosurgery for the rest of her life? He would write that she was wonderful and that Neurosurgery was the only place for Meredith Grey.

But that wasn't entirely true. Of course, she was wonderful; in both her professional and personal life. But the Neurosurgery part. From the very moment that she had diagnosed Katie Bryce correctly he had known that Neurosurgery would suit Meredith Grey very nicely. But so would all the other specialties. Meredith Grey was what they called an 'all-rounder'. She would do well in every specialty; she was that kind of doctor and person. It was be unfair for him to narrow down her abilities to his only specialty for his own selfish reasons. So instead of writing down the guilt driven words that had long ago formed in his head, he instead opened Izzie Steven's file and wrote down half of what he wanted to write down for Meredith.

'Forget about it' the voice had hoarsely whispered into his ear the next time Meredith's reference had had come up again. He had pulled her from the water and she was now lying on some gurney in exam room three in the emergency room. The chief had kicked him out and lost, he had hidden in his office. Papers were laying all over his normally clean desk, but the manila folder that held all of Meredith's current references and evaluations from his peers sat there perfectly unaware of everything that had happened within the past 12 hours..

It had been past along to him once again and someone had just dropped it on his desk. And there is was, staring back at him. Before any sort of argument had formed in his head, his hand had reached out behind him to flick the lock of his office door locked and he had lunged forward to his desk, not caring at the paperwork that had fallen to the ground in a mess of white. The only thing he was aware of was the erratic beat of his heart and the folder that was forever tattooed on his eyes. The string of words that he had placed together in his head whenever he saw her with a patient rushed to the front of his brain and it took him barely any brain power to blindly grab a loose pen from his desk and write. He wrote everything that was in his mind. How much he loved her. How good of a doctor she was. How much he loved her. How Neurosurgery really was the only specialty for her. How much he loved her. How much her talent rivaled that of Ellis Grey's. How much he loved her.

It all poured out on to the scrap piece of discarded paper in a passionate panic that made the all the words he wrote feel beautiful in his two-dimensional mind. Eventually the words began to dry up like a dam in the height of a drought, and an exhausted silence echoed throughout his mind. Rubbing a hand over his face, the words he had written stared back up at him from his desk, messy and dirty, they weren't the beautiful things his mind has planted and another onset of depressing failure settled in his soul. Flipping over the piece of paper, he saw the dark black ink that expressed a list of important hospital dates and he slammed it down against the desk. He couldn't submit this. Not with the tangle of sentences that were written in neither English nor Gibberish and on a scrap piece of paper.

But that didn't matter, he sourly reminded himself. She was currently flat lining in exam room three of Seattle Grace's emergency room. This mess of words was useless to her. 'Forget about it' rang through his head again and in his depressive lull, he brought himself to his feet, scrunched up the piece of paper, shoved it in his bottom draw and picked up her folder with every intention of dropping it into Addison Montegomery's pigeon hole.

For all he knew from that point onwards, it had stayed in Addison's possession, until she had passed it on to the next physician, and then the next. Life had once again picked everything he held stable in his life and had thrust it into a hurricane vortex, leaving destruction and a completely different scenery around him. Addison had left, Burke had left, his idealistic dream of being Chief had faded dispassionately and Meredith and he had fallen apart in a whirlwind of catastrophe that still made him ache, six months onwards.

It had been six months since he had walked out of Meredith's trembling arms and into Rose's assertive ones. The transition had been bearable to the point that for the first month it had felt like nothing had changed. There was no S&M. But that didn't include Rose anyway. Things had felt stable until he had finally confided in Mark about his new sense of stability and his friend had pointedly told him that the reason was because he was dating a plant. Mark Sloan's comment had both puzzled and pissed him off at first. Rose wasn't Mark's kind of girl; there was nothing wrong with that.

But days after the comment, Derek Shepherd came to the realisation that Rose wasn't his kind of girl either. The passing days after the comment, strange aspects of their relationship became alarmingly apparent to him. For the first time in the relationship, he held her up on a pedestal, and compared her from every angle. At the time he had no idea who or what he had been comparing her too but the more he looked, the bigger the taste of displeasure evolved in his mouth. Rose was a great person; she had a decent career, looks and a stable life that made her too-worthy for most men and more importantly – she knew what she wanted.

But they weren't combatable. She had the personality of a plant, and a diet that sorely consisted of the same. A month had past and his unhappiness continued to increase to a capacity that he knew was going insane. The break-up had been relatively painless for both sides, he admitted to believing himself to a better relationship than was reality and she confessed that she really didn't feel it. Amicably they left their table at Joe's as friends, nothing more and nothing less, and she had retreated to her friends and he to the bar seat next to Mark Sloan.

"What was that about?"

"We broke up"

"Was the sex bad?"

"No. She just wasn't right for me. That's all"

"Meredith"

"Excuse me?"

"You were comparing her to Meredith"

From that moment on, everything shifted. Before, on the occasion that they did have to work together or did bump into each other it was politely friendly without being too cold or too warm. Now, however, the very sight of Meredith Grey unnerved him. His demeanor was subconsciously cold towards her and the very sudden change had caught everyone's attention. The nurse's eyes went wide and his colleague's eyes narrowed as she took his unfair attitude with her chin held high and not one word as to ask why. Mark had asked him why and the only thing he could muster was an 'I don't know,' because he didn't know. She infuriated him without doing everything and he could slowly see her breaking. With every harsh word he spoke at her, those steely green eyes flashed and her lips pursed... but still she didn't say a word, for weeks she didn't say a word and neither did anyone else, except Mark.

"This ends now"

"What does?"

"This premenstrual crap that you're throwing at everyone. You made an intern cry yesterday"

"She was sloppy, incompetent and lazy. It's a wonder she made it into the program"

"Are you listening to yourself? Look, I don't understand why that stick is shove so far up your ass, but could you pull it out"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. First it was snapping but now its yelling"

"I yelled at Meredith once"

"I'm not talking about Meredith; I am talking about everyone else in this hospital. You're treating Meredith like a doormat. She has done nothing, so get rid of the mood otherwise I will let Yang claw you to death"

"Screw you"

"Call me when my friend gets back"

The next time he asked a nurse for a chart, he couldn't help but noticed how shaky her hands were as she passed him the chart. After that exchanged he had made a mental note to buy that intern a coffee on his next break (as an apology).

Shying back into his office, he collapsed into his desk chair and felt his muscles ache against the thin cushion back. Reaching out he grasped for the new pile of paperwork that someone had placed on his desk and flicked through them, pausing horrified at the manila folder that had made its way back into his possession. A yellow post-it was stuck to the front exclaiming, 'Needs to be finish asap' in the chief's secretary's handwriting and his heart toke a free fall at the words 'Dr Meredith Grey MD' labeled on the right top hand corner. Opening the folder up, Derek collected the small yet significant buddle of papers into his hands and flicked the pages back, skimming his eyes across the surface as he did. A list of education and academia graced the first page, listing Dartmouth University (Pre-Med), Harvard University Medical School and Dartmouth University Medical School.

_'I had to defer halfway through Med-School because mum was getting worse. I needed to be closer to her. Boston University was the closest but Dartmouth had the more flexible program making the commute worth it'_

Her voice whispered into his ear softly and he felt his eyes dropping to the bottom of the page; Intern Exam 98 percent (rank 1).

_...Dr Meredith Grey displays attributes that are almost unique to cardiothoracic surgery. In one particular case, Dr Grey was able to correctly diagnose a patient and assess further actions without encouragement or guidance from a more advanced physician. She was also productive in the manner at which she was able to __receive correct help for the patient, being that he was listed under the care of another service..._

_...Dr Meredith Grey at times does tend to have trouble relating to expectant mothers, but this is of course irrelevant when in the operating room performing surgery on the patient. She is a fully capable physician who has extraordinary instinct. She managed to save an infant baby's life by simply placing the baby in an incubator next to its sibling, bringing down the baby's distress and heath issues to a minimum and proving that she is extremely capable in the field of OB/GYN..._

_...Dr Meredith Grey would be __a__ welcomed addition to the field of Plastic surgery as she is a wonderful doctor and even better surgeon. Her cuts are clean, __small and __sharp and sutures neat and tight. Grey also has established people skills when dealing with patients as she is empathic and kind at the same time as being distanced from the patient. Plastic surgery is the only way to go._

The words seemed to rip of the page and slap him in the face with every sentence he read. Perfect words strung together, one by one, to form one equally perfect sentence that painted a fantastically perfect picture of the perfect surgeon Meredith Grey was, and it all just felt like a scam in his head. All these perfect words meant jack-shit to him. Of course Meredith was a hell of a good surgeon, but this shouldn't be selectively based on just her abilities as a surgeon, her ability to function as a human being had to count for something. And yet, her habits and actions outside the hospital and within personal relationships shouldn't be known to her attending. Those things normally held no ground of significance within the operating room and had no significance in the reference he was expected to write.

A sudden onset of heat devoured his skin as his cheeks flushed crimson. Never throughout the entire period of time that he had known Meredith, had he truly understood the threat that an attending-intern relationship posed to one's career. The phrase 'conflict of interest' had always been there, but what did it matter if he chose her for a few more surgeries over the others? But now he understood, it was this that had everyone else giving their relationship disapproving glares and hushed sentiments of disgrace.

As a couple they had collapsed under the weight of everything that had gone unsaid and things that shouldn't have been said. They had parted as two very broken people who were no longer the people they were when the relationship had first started, and a valley of regret and angst now stood between them. It would be a miracle is some of those bitter, repressed sentiments didn't somehow leak into this reference he had to write.

Slamming the manila folder shut in one fluid motion, Derek dragged himself to his feet with a mildly repressed huff and walked out of his office, the manila folder lying unpleasantly on his desk like an overdue bill that was just a hindrance. Strutting through the halls with a little less McDreamy than normal, he quickly found the help he was so desperately seeking in the form of Mark Sloan, pressed against the nurses' station with the tip of his pen resting against his lips as he stared at a nurse, whose back was to him.

Seeing his best friend walk up to him, Mark simply put his hand out, his eyes not leaving the nurse in front of him. It wasn't until the nurse walked off around the corner, and out of sight that Mark turned his attention to his best friend.

"What is up your ass this time?"

"I can do this. I can't write Meredith a reference"

"You haven't done it yet?"

"No"

"Dip shit"

"Excuse me?"

"Grey would have to be one, if not the best intern in her year making her reference one of the easiest ones to right. Plus you were sleeping with her for a period of that internship, what reason could you possibly have for not writing it"

"Conflict of interest, unprofessional"

"Mum always said procrastination causes bad excuses"

"Mark, I'm serious"

"So am I. You fucked up and didn't do her reference when things were good. Too bad. You're broken up now, it's over. Write the fucking reference"

"It's not that easy"

"Then make it easy. Write what you have to write, no bullshit"

"It's too complicated"

"It's only complicated because you made it complicated"

"What do I write"

"The truth"

Derek took the plastic surgeons advice with a glaring glaze. The whole affair was like a small splitter that was embedded in his foot, out of sight and out of reach but it would still rear its ugly head whenever he placed pressure of his sole. And as his pager vibrated from his side and emitted it's annoying alarm, his small splitter buried itself deeper within his skin.

Standing outside the patient's room, Derek didn't expect the sight he saw. This corner of the hospital was unusually calm. The patient, a young girl around the age of eight, and the reason for his page was propped up against a small buddle of hospital pillows that were flatter and harder than pillows should be. The pasty green cotton blanket that was stored in every hospital room was laid across her legs as the young girl sat upright, her face close to Meredith Grey's as she quietly spoke to the 2nd soon to be 3rd year resident.

A light green cardigan hung from Meredith's shoulders and covered her arms, as she sat on the young girl's bed. The top half of her body was awkwardly leaning forward towards the girl and she looked relaxed as she quietly conversed with the girl, who looked very comfortable around her doctor.

Clearing his throat gently, Meredith and the girl looked up suddenly, surprised by the noise. Instantly the little girl retreated back against the pillows, her lips tightly clamped together and Meredith gave her an exasperated look, before moving off the bed and towards Derek. Quietly she moved out of the room and into the hallway, tilting the door half closed as she moved.

"Jenny Wilcock, seven years old. She was admitted yesterday after her mother noticed that she was sensitive to bright light, loud noises and limping. Her mother is a GP, so naturally she brought her to the ER"

"And she's neurological?"

"Yes, she was moved this afternoon. Jenny hasn't spoken a work to anyone about what happened so she was staying overnight to be monitored, one of the nurses noticed that her left pupil was slightly dilated"

"And no one noticed this yesterday"

"The intern who preformed her exam didn't pick up on it"

"You're intern?"

"Dr Yang's"

"She seemed pretty chatty with you"

"According to Jenny, a boy pushed her against a wall during school. This boy has been bulling her for a while, which explains the bruises on her arm. She's booked in for a CT and MRI"

"Is one of your interns on this case?"

"Dr Fielding was on this, but he has been paged by Dr Hahn, I am fine with staying with her"

"This is an intern's job"

"And when my intern gets out of surgery he will take over for me. I'm not going to leave a patient just because it means I have to do a job lower than me. I'm on no other case. It's not that big of a deal"

He left that encounter with an inspiration that had settled joyfully in his chest. It had been the first time they had spoken without a snarky comment from his side, and Derek couldn't help but be inspirited by it. He hadn't been making a conscious decision to be nicer; in fact, he had taken Mark's words in relation to his treatment of Meredith with a grain of salt. In fact, he had been looking for something, anything, that would give him some direction on where to go with this reference thing. And standing there, watching her place herself in a position that she actively stated was something she couldn't handle had given him something. Maybe, it had given him a little bit more than just something. For the first time in a long time, he had felt something.

Something that he had always associated with Meredith Grey and it had been gone for so long that he didn't even realise that it had been gone. All it had been was a twinge. In his gut he had felt a twinge of something that was a mixture of hope, excitement and surprisingly love.

And that was all he needed.

Meredith Grey nervously knocked on Richard Webber's office door. It was a Friday, and she was the last 2nd year resident to be interviewed and given their references. Cristina had complained that a decision so big shouldn't be left in the hands of dried up surgeons such as Hahn and despite her own reassurance that these didn't mean jack, she had been in a funk all week. Izzie had come out with a weak smile saying that she had been sure from the start, and Alex had been equally confused as he had been walking into the interview. Breathing deeply, she allowed the air to escape her lungs raggedly as her chest shuddered under the anxiety that was belting through her veins.

It wasn't possible for her to be disappointed because she didn't have a clue at what she wanted to do. The others had been fussed at getting their preferred speciality down pact; the surgeries, the cases, the study; they had all focused on the same speciality if not for the entire duration of their internship, but for a reasonable time. But herself, she had been placid and had enjoyed what had ever come her way and in the end she had done fairly well in each speciality. But that was the extent of it; she didn't shine in Cardio like Cristina, or in OBGYN like Izzie, or even in two specialities like Alex. She just did average in everything, end of story.

The door creaked open suddenly, stirring Meredith from her thoughts as Richard Webber's friendly face welcomed her into his office and told her to make herself comfortable. Sitting in the chair laid out in front of Dr Webber's desk, a dark sense of foreboding crashed into Meredith and she forced herself to stare straight ahead, choosing to focus on one of the certificates that sat, proudly framed on the table behind Dr Webber's desk.

"So Meredith how are you?"

"Fine thanks sir, yourself?"

"Good. Actually at the moment I am very pleased, pleased and proud actually. Your references are quite astounding; I don't think I've read so many good things about one person in a long time, if ever"

"You... you haven't?"

"No. You should be very proud of yourself. I have every confidence that whatever speciality that you choose you'll dominate in no time"

"I will?"

"You sound surprised"

"I just, didn't expect this... that's all"

"Well you should. I don't normally do this, but... well here is one of them...

_To __whom i__t may concern__ – Dr Meredith Grey MD is the perfect example of a doctor in its entirety. She is a loving, compassionate doctor whose first priority is her patients and making sure that they received the foremost treatment possible. She has a keen instinct when it comes to medicine that is nearly always correct and gives her a quite air of confidence that is acknowledge by everyone around her, even if she doesn't recognise it herself. Dr Grey is going to be a magnificent doctor is whatever area that she chooses and that is why I ask, instead of instruct, Dr Grey to choose Neurology. Any field, and indeed the medical community, are very lucky indeed to have Dr Grey work for them._

... and it continues as such. The rest of the references are pretty similar, but I must say my personal reference isn't quite as wonderful as that. Do you have any idea what speciality you're interested in?"

"Umm, no. Not really. Thought I think... I think it's down to General and Neurology. I think, though I am not entirely sure"

"Well you still have a while to mull it all over. But I have to repeat my earlier sentiments, Meredith. I am very proud of you, and I daresay that your mother would be to. You received the highest marks in the intern exam, and then have followed it up with equally amazing references. I am very excited to see where your career takes you"

"Thank you sir"

The whole experience left Meredith numb with something other than shock. Someone had written her an amazing reference, that somebody being Derek who, forgetting all of the snarky and unpleasant manner over the past months had written amazing words and created an amazing reference – for her.

Gently, she closed the heavy office door behind her and almost collapsed against its cool surface. It was hard to forget where she was, with the heavy hustle and bustle of the surrounding hospital crowd, that passed her with urgent ease, not caring to take any notice of the semi pale, relieved looking Meredith Grey.

Breaking slightly out of her internally musing, her eyes swept over the small traffic that always existed on the hospital bridge, to see the ocean eyes of Derek Shepherd, watching her intently. In all honesty, she had no idea what was protocol for her to do. Should she wave? Walk up to him and offer her hand with an enthusiastic 'thankyou'? Or would it be better to just run into his arms and sob in relief from all of the conflicting feelings that had been swimming around her head and chest, and now were being replaced with a different kind of confusion.

The last option was something that she wanted. Someday. Standing there, watching him just look back at her softly, without an ounce of his previous judgement and predisposed dislike, she knew that someday she wanted to be back in a place where she could run into his arms and surrender herself to all the things that were held hostage in side of her. But, she knew deep in her heart that she didn't want it today. In a dream world, they would reunite, forgetting about all the dark and twisty events that had crippled them and swept them away from each other. But in reality, that couldn't happen until the things that needed to be mended were mended and the things that needed to be forgiven were forgiven. And she wanted to get there; she _needed_ to get there by herself.

It was like she was having an out of body experience. She small the corners of her lips bended gracefully upwards to create a small but thankful smile. But the effects of that smile didn't come. Not until his head cocked to one side, and something that was almost a fully fledged smile with a slight hint of McDreamy charm graced his face in a sad, though optimistic way that made her heart lurch with hope.

There was a chance. Her heart seemed to thump, developing a pattern that pounded throughout her veins and her body. The feeling of light observation continued, as she simply nodded her head and turned away. From his perspective her light blue scrubs quickly melted together with all the other light blue scrubs on the bridge and his head dropped towards his chest. Even from her position she could hear the distant thump that seemed to echo hers.

Hours later, the floating presence that had hijacked her body had faded away, falling victim to the hectic business of working in a hospital and competing with everyone in sight. The definite details of her meeting with Richard Webber had gone unspoken as she gave the bullet-point form of her trip to the chief of surgery's office with her friends, carefully leaving out the glowing reference and exchange that had quickly followed it. Cristina response was a subtle 'hmmm', Izzie's a bright smile, Alex a friendly clap on the back and George just simply beamed, 'that's my resident'.

All of the victorious promises of celebration had fallen short on her and she really didn't know why. Here she was, yet again standing at another crossroad that seemed just as petrifying as the last one she had encountered. A million different options, facts and reasons jumped around in her head and her only coherent thought had been the rain. Alex and Izzie needed a lift, even though her shift finished a full two hours before they got off, but the plan was later at Joes.

Rain sprinkled and splattered the large glass windows of Seattle Grace's foyer and the large cluster of patient families that normally congregated around that area influenced her to walk out into the whirlwind of mist that danced on the tip of the wind, adding a slight enchanting charm to the relatively calm of the area.

No ambulances entered from this direction of the hospital, allowing only staff and visitors the only personal to walk this pavement and find shelter and solace within the winding patio that trailed out to the desolate car park. Standing outside, in the once rain now mist, a person could almost forget that this was a hospital, that people were here sick, that people were here say goodbye, that people were here dying and dead.

Walking past her, a man and woman rushed towards the hospital in hurried footsteps that belted the cold pavement with every emotion that was coursing through their veins. The young woman had light tear marks tainted on her porcelain cheeks and his worried lines were like deep trenches dug out on a battle field. Both of them gripped their coats tighter, with her hands grasped together across her heart with a public desperation for some sort of physical stability that would prevent her from collapsing inwards with the weight of everything.

Suddenly conscious of the fact that she had left her coat in her car, this warm morning, Meredith rubbed her hands against the side of her arms and looked away from the young couple, not daring to look any longer in to their personal tragedy; hers had been enough. Some leaves rustled next to her feet, as she continued to walk gently down the footpath that lead away from Seattle Grace, from all the tragedy.

What was she going to do? She questioned herself panicked. Before her, she could see each and every pathway that were all fully opened, and fully prepared; each with a different speciality, each with a different outcome, each with the same level of foreboding that had taken over her since the meeting. In all honesty, she knew the two strong candidates without thinking any further down the pathways that were visibly defined in her mind. General or Neurology. Neurology or General.

Watching as her feet stepped on in front of the other, she looked up at the still noise of someone standing close by her, and she saw Derek Shepherd or half of Derek Shepherd at least. Bent down at an awkward angle, his front half was presumably searching for something in the back seat of his Mercedes as the lower half of his body was exposed to the whole world. Blushing slightly at the thoughts that came with this, Meredith quickly looked away and stepped back slightly, trying to suppress the small smile that was trying to break out by biting down hard on her bottom lip. Not sure what she should do, or should say, Meredith stepped back a few more steps, until a brick pillar successfully hid her from view and her heart rate decreased slightly.

General or Neurology. Neurology or General.

The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning, and her eyes suddenly widened from the censored memory that started to play out in her head, not matter how much she had tried to conceal it for months, nearly a year.

_"__Have you chosen a specialty?__"_

_"__No, it's...__its__ still early.__"_

_"__Cristina's already chosen __cardio__thoracics__"_

_"__Yeah, well, I guess I'm just waiting to be inspired. I'm happy now. I feel like I know who I am plus I think when you have someone in your life that you love, you really love, I think that's...I don't know I just...I'm really happy__"_

_"__What happened to you?__"_

_"__What do you mean?__"_

_"__You're happy? You're happy now? The Meredith I knew was a force of nature, passionate, focused a fighter. What happened to you? You've gone soft. Stammering about a boyfriend and saying you're waiting to be inspired. You're waiting for inspiration? Are you kidding me? I have a disease for which there is no cure. I think t__hat would be inspiration enough"_

Nausea was the first thought that she had as her mother's words surfaced to the front of her head and vertigo soon followed. Turning her back against the potential image of Derek Shepherd and his car, she placed her hand on the brick pillar for support and allowed herself to lean towards the cool brick, the rest of the world forgotten.

Back then it had been early, she told herself, she had had every right to be unsure then, but now, a year later? Here she was with a perfect opportunity; beaming references from every speciality in the hospital, a hospital that was the best teaching hospital this side of Harvard. She didn't have any right to be unsure of her next move. If not from her current position, but from also her upbringing, she should have this problem. Her mother taught her to always have a vision; a plan for what to do next; to always think ahead. And Cristina Yang, who played chess, knew this. Cristina Yang had her speciality picked out from med school, Meredith should have had hers picked then too. She was unprepared, so fucking unprepared.

"Dr Grey?"

The very sound of his voice and the underlying unease and uncertainty that hovered thick in his voice made the nausea double tenfold. Dr Grey. He had started calling her that after she referred to him once as Dr Shepherd and his bad mood swings had started. Shutting her eyes tightly she cursed herself at her stupidity. She had freaked herself out, barely a metre from her ex-boyfriend and pissy boss. So stupid. So entirely, fucking stupid.

Turning around slowly on her heel, she opened her eyes and looked at Derek Shepherd, a fair distance away from her, but still close enough to see that his incredibly blue eyes still held that same intoxicating level of pity, that he only reserved for her. She moved to open her mouth and offer him some sort of explanation, but nothing came out. Quickly closing her mouth, a string of words formed in her head, and she quickly grasped again to only lose those words before they had even reached her mouth.

Derek noticed his, and the pity in his eyes decreased and instead the disappointment rose, allowing her stomach to leap inside her with an angry churn. He turned quicker into the non-existent conversation than he would have in those terrible months at the tail end of their relationship. The image of his back towards seemed to kick the memory back into her face.

_"__You're waiting for inspiration? Are you kidding me? I have a disease for which there is no cure. I think t__hat would be inspiration enough"_

How was she supposed to take that? 'Gee mum, you want me to continue your superior rein of General Queen? How very monarchy of you'. She shook away that thought. If Ellis Grey's words had implied her to take General surgery as her ultimate passion and committed speciality than she would have just said that. 'Choose General Meredith. That's the only place for you'. No, she didn't mean General.

"When my mother was in the hospital, that day that she was lucid. She was angry at me, not because of anything that had to do with you. But because of me. Because I hadn't picked my speciality when Cristina had"

The words seemed to spit of her mouth like something that had regurgitated from her brain and whose only outlet was her mouth. They felt disgusting and raw to her and her entire concept of self repulsion made her skin crawl. But he had stood walking.

"And then she started yelling. Because I had told her I was waiting to be inspired. She yelled about how sick she was and that that should have been inspiration enough. I tried so hard to block that out and just forget about it. I remember being told how dementia patients recovered their memory day leading up to their death and how Richard Webber had told me that this was a gift and all I could associate with that was how much I hated her in that minute. I just hated her. So I bottled it all up and forgot about it"

The words continued to spill with the small reassurance that she had his attention held tightly within her fingertips. Somewhere in her ramble, his neck had turned slightly to the side, and his body had moved an inch closer than hers even though she still could only see the dark blue of his shirt and slightly messy curl of his hair. Not knowing how it was possible, her heart skipped another beat and doubled into overdrive, the incessant pound of it started to ache her chest making her pause slightly to control her breathing.

"And now I go into this meeting, not knowing what is going to come out of it, and now I have this decision, this decision which is huge, it's massive. And all I can think about is her chastising me for not taking inspiration from her illness. And after pondering over it for hours, all I can understand is that I've lying to myself. Because I've always known what speciality I've wanted to be a part of; from the very first time I stepped up to a surgical table, I've known"

She watched, with an impatient breath as he dropped his head down slightly and wiped his hand over his face sighing a distant tired sort of sigh. Then he turned and looked at her with an expression that she couldn't read. It had a little bit of exhaustion, heartbreak and some surprised mixed with a ton of other things that Meredith couldn't even begin to describe. Once upon a time she had been good at reading him, now she just wondered where that had gone

"I guess I lost it. I lost the will to fight for one particular thing, or forgot about it, one or the other. But now it just feels like she's pushing me. It feels like she's pulling me in the right direction or whatever"

"I get that sometimes. With my dad. Sometimes it's like he gives me a kick in the right direction. In a way it's comforting"

Comfort; Meredith hadn't thought to use that word to describe the sensation that had hit her merely minutes before. It had been more of a paralysing shock that had left her with an indescribable confidence that she couldn't think otherwise. In a way, it had felt like one of Ellis Grey's workings.

"You've made a good decision... Dr Grey"

The second use of her professional name struck her attention with a sharp sting, covering over his prior sentiments with a blanket of scorching pain. She could feel the slight hot wetness that was starting to develop behind her eyes and she forced herself to blink them away hurriedly. The crackle of shoes against stone stole her attention as she watched him take a few steps away, obviously presuming that that was it.

"Derek!"

It was a small yelp, one that she immediately regretted as he turned around once again and stared at her confused. Meredith could feel the hot flush of crimson break out on her cheeks and she inwardly groaned at the predicament she had pushed herself in.

"Thankyou. For the reference I mean. Thanks"

His facial expression changed instantly, and for a moment Meredith caught herself thinking about the first time she had met him. He had that look again; the tired but optimistic one. Then it changed to a serious, awkward one that he always got when he couldn't articulate something important. Meredith was stumped at it. It wasn't normally a face he made to her, yet again she had stopped looking a while ago. It could have been a face he had pulled in her very presence for a while now.

"Do you ever think that we could...? I mean someday?"

The question took her by surprise. If not from the fact that she herself had been contemplating the very same question earlier today, but that he had also been thinking about it. His eyes were now a different sort of raw that had everything to do with the vulnerability and desperation that now shone from them. He, who had been so cold and mean to her for longer than just a few months had been thinking about their relationship... about their _future_ relationship.

"Yes, I do. Someday. Hopefully"

He smiled back at her before turning back around and disappearing from her immediate view. She felt warm and for the first time in a while, hopeful. Hopeful that they would make it past thing awkard dance they were doing now, hopeful that one day the time and circumstances would be right and hopeful that they would get to that place.

Someday.

**I hoped you liked it. The idea came to me one day, and I really don't think that this is what actually happens ****or**** that this is the direction that the show is going to take. But a girl can be hopeful, right?**

**To readers of my story "Moving in Shadows" I am working on an update, I seriously am. This and school has bogged me down, but I promise I'm getting back on track... sort of. lol.**

**Loved it or hated it? That is the question.**

**Please Review.**


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